CHAPTER IX.
THE EXAMINATION.
Constable Cooke put the irons on the wrists of Levi Fairfield, not from a sense of duty, but with a keen relish for the act itself. It is but justice to the officer, prejudiced though he was, to say that he was entirely sincere in the belief that his prisoner had stolen the miser's gold. He was needlessly rough and severe in the discharge of his duty, and the irons were a gratuitous indignity. Mr. Watson protested vigorously against the constable's useless display of authority. Bessie was frightened and terribly grieved by the harsh treatment bestowed upon her ideal of a hero.
Levi himself was the only person in the cabin who was calm. His quiet dignity was unruffled by the insults heaped upon him, and he looked proudly conscious of his innocence.
"What does all this mean?" demanded Mr. Watson, when Levi had been effectually ironed, so that he could not tear the constable and his assistant to pieces, as they seemed to fear he would.
"I do not know, sir," replied Levi, shaking his head, with a smile.
"I think it is all clear enough, Mr. Watson," interposed Constable Cooke.
"I don't think it is," replied Mr. Watson, sharply. "You have found a shot-bag with ten five-dollar gold pieces in it. What does that prove?"
"It proves that Levi stole the money just as clear as the sun proves it's day."
"Is it anything surprising that the captain of a yacht has fifty dollars in gold in his state-room?"